


lights, camera, action

by orphan_account



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Camgirl!Clarke, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, My First AO3 Post, My First Smut, My First Work in This Fandom, Sex Toys, Sex Work, Webcams, probably the least sexy porn you will ever read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 17:27:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10443213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The barista won't stop staring at Clarke.-Clarke's a camgirl to pay for college, and Bellamy's a loyal viewer. They meet, they date, they fuck.





	

**Author's Note:**

> there's not really a plot, but it's not all just porn, either! hope you enjoy!

There's a system to the whole thing, and once she learns it, it gets a lot easier.

You have to keep the show going for as long as possible to attract people who will tip, and what Clarke learned from browsing other people's shows is that the best way to do this is to only do certain acts once she gets a certain amount of tips.

When she'd first started out, these numbers had been pretty low. But she'd actually gained a following somewhat quickly, with dozens of raunchy people on the internet telling her that she has the most perfect body that they've ever seen. She kicks out people who are ruder than that, and it's funny - some of her viewers joke that she's the classiest camgirl they've ever seen, and _holy fuck_ if it doesn't turn them on.

At the beginning, she was pretty awkward about it all. Sometimes in the middle of bouncing on some sex toy she'd think,  _oh God, is this my life_? But honestly? She makes a hell of a lot of money, and sure, she can't actually use any of it since it's all going towards her debt, but there are some of her classmates who are struggling a lot more than she is paying off their loans, and they have two jobs.

She has a show three nights a week for two hours each, and they're honestly fun. She gets to practice her flirting, and some of it is honestly so ... easy. For a little bit at the beginning of the show, she's clothed, waiting for enough tips to get in so that she can do some sort of amateur striptease.

When she turns on her webcam this time and clicks  _start show,_ it takes about fifteen seconds of an empty chatroom before her viewers start pouring in. Most of them at this point are ones who come at least once a week, sometimes more, and probably were notified by their phones that she had started her show. The newer viewers don't usually come until a few minutes later, and they see her on the trending page. She doesn't use her real name, of course, everyone knowing her by her username of 'sunshine,' which she'd somehow been lucky enough to claim.

 **matterglamour:** ayyyyy how you doing, sunshine?

 **123ebony:** sunshine, you're fifteen seconds late! ;)

Clarke laughs at the jokes and goes into a small recount of her week, as vaguely as possible. Someone spilled coffee on her, she got a new necklace from a friend who was getting rid of jewelry post-breakup, she got to pet a cat. A pretty good week, by her standards.

Someone in the chat tells her to take her clothes off, and she clicks her tongue at them and informs them that they're still a good twenty tips away from that. She does, just to be a little shit, bring a hand up to feel herself up. "Some incentive," she teases.

 _augustus_ _tipped 22 tokens._

"Well," Clarke says, giggling and making sure that the only part of her face showing on screen is her lips, "I guess it worked."

 _augustus_ is a pretty common viewer, though usually only on her weekend shows. He doesn't talk in chat much, in fact, the only reason she knows that he goes by he/him is because it says so on his profile. She likes to check out the profiles of who watches her, just because she's a massive snoop and she might block them if they're into anything illegal.

 **augustus:** couldn't wait this time, princess. i just had to see if you'll get stuck again

She ducks her head at both the nickname and the reminder as she reaches to pull off her shirt. Once, she'd started off the show talking about how for some reason people take off their shirts in different ways, and she'd tried to take it off by pulling at the base of her neck and had gotten stuck. That had been awkward, and totally not sexy, but she'd learned that even if silly things like that turns some of the new viewers off, the people who stick around tend to actually enjoy little moments like that.

The chat spams for a little bit, ranging from "ooh, pink tonight?" to "niiiiiice." One message sticks out - "did you ever tell us the story of the scar on your stomach?"

"Oh, this thing?" she asks, and brushes her fingers over a little diamond-shaped mark next to her belly button. "I fell off of a trampoline when I was drunk, and I landed on a stick. Ow."

 _ow,_ half of the chat agrees, while the other half is tipping in an attempt to get her to take her pants off.

Classy.

* * *

An hour into the show,  _augustus_ tips again - this time when she's naked and lazily massaging her tits, her vibrator neatly in frame so that what's about to come (hah, puns) can be anticipated. The tip is followed by a message -

 **augustus:** sorry, princess, i've got work soon and want to see you get off properly before i have to leave

"Work sucks," Clarke whines, partly because it's true and partly because  _augustus_ is a good tipper. "Play with me instead." She's always been a bit of an exhibitionist, so sitting naked in front of six hundred strangers, rubbing her nipples so they stay hard, it's making her want to get this show on the road. 

 **augustus:** fuck

"I'm so turned on," she continues, not bothering with the porn star falsetto that everybody knows is fake. "Fuck, I want to bounce on that toy."

This announcement gets her to her next tipping goal, so she slips her fingers from her breasts to her clit so that she can play with herself. She's already pretty wet, which is kind of weird, since most of the time shows like these feel more like a job than getting off. But there's something about knowing that she's turning other people on that  _does_ it for her. She lets out a moan that's a little too low-pitched to be fake and presses harder into her fingers for more pressure.

 **matterglamour:** my favorite thing about sunshine is how real she is. she's so into this

"Fuck," Clarke says, instead of dignifying that with a better answer. "God, I want to get fucked,  _please,_ let me have it."

_augustus tipped 39 tokens._

**augustus:** go for it, princess. make it good for yourself

" _God,_ you're really helping me out tonight," Clarke says. "I'll - I'll repay you, yeah? You like the sound of that?" She reads the  _yeah, yes, incredibly_ as she grabs her vibrator. She doesn't spend too much time stretching herself since she's turned on enough, but a few fingers probably help. She moves to a more upright position so that she can sink down on them more steadily, and little gasps of breath from the workout.

She lowers herself onto the vibrator before turning it on, letting herself get used to the way it feels and positioning it so the 'bunny ears' press up against her clit, tight enough that it probably won't take long before she comes. Clarke rocks on it slowly, trying to get a little bit of pressure as she brings a hand down to turn it on. She debates turning it onto the full setting, since she's close anyway, but figures she should drag it out. It goes on low and she immediately bucks into it, grinding down and repositioning the vibrator so that she can get to a position where she can carry this out a little bit longer.

It doesn't take too long before something feels  _different,_ something feels better. There's something warm and nice building up right where the end of her vibrator hits, but it doesn't seem bad so Clarke doesn't stop it.

"Fuck, oh - oh, fuck," she babbles, the hand that isn't keeping her upright reaching up to play with her nipples. "Oh God, so good-" She doesn't usually talk too much, but something feels different this time. Whatever it is, it hits her all at once, making her moan something big and lean her head back. She doesn't realize that she's going to squirt until it's already happening, and she's gushing everywhere. It feels so good but foreign and _oh,_ if she died like this, it'd be the best death. Before the surprise can settle in, the vibrator buzzing against her clit makes her come the way she normally does, and she whines so loud that she might as well be screaming.

It takes much longer than usual to recover, and she spends a good minute or so moaning along to the vibrations, overstimulation feeling like too much, too much, too much, but everything's been knocked out of her so it takes a while before she can muster the energy to turn the sex toy off and pull it out of her.

 **123ebony:** did she just

 **busboy44:** she DID

Clarke doesn't really know what to say, so she smiles a little sheepishly and says, "well, that's never happened before." More messages come in through a blur of tips.

 **matterglamour:** sunshine's a SQUIRTER

 **augustus:** now i need to change my shorts

Clarke's fingers reach down instinctively to touch herself, and she feels the aftershocks ride out of her body. Her fingers press against where her muscles contract and come back completely soaked. "Oh, wow," she says.

 **busboy44:** honestly, sunshine, if you ever film that and put it in your private gallery, you'd get a lot of money from people taking a look. that was hot

"You make a fair point," Clarke says. "Not sure if I'll be able to do that again, though. To be honest, I always thought the squirting porn category was just a lot of people using turkey basters incorrectly."

Clarke ends the livestream fifteen minutes early. Even so, she's gotten almost double the tips that she usually does.

She "repays"  _augustus_ by sending him a PM of her in her new lingerie, fingers slipping into her underwear. He sends back a  _black looks great on you._

* * *

When she leaves her room with a bundle of dirty sheets ready to be washed, she bumps into Raven in the living room. Clarke can't help but let her cheeks immediately turn red. "How much of that did you hear?"

Raven cackles. "How red your face is right now compared with the sheets in your arms is making me think you might have made a lot of money tonight."

Clarke gets redder. "I did, actually. It was pretty fun this time." 

As a freshman, Clarke should technically be living in the dorms. However, once Raven learned how Clarke was paying for college, Raven allowed her to unofficially move in, just so there wouldn't be any RAs knocking on her door, telling her to shut up. Clarke had made a deal with the school that she could break the "freshmen need to live in dorms" rule as long as she kept her grades high. Since Clarke hasn't had a grade below an A since 9th grade algebra, it was an easy deal to make.

It's actually a little funny how cool Raven is with all of it. Clarke will come out of her bedroom after getting off at least once, and Raven will be sitting in the living area sipping coffee as if she hasn't just heard Clarke moan for the past two hours. Raven is about as down-to-earth and open about sex as you can possibly get, which is honestly a good thing.

"I need to shower," Clarke says. "Did we have any plans for tonight?"

"Miller and Monty wanted to hang out with us at the cafe, so that we can help Miller fill out some job application," Raven says. "Since we all know that he's shit with words."

"As if you're so great yourself," Clarke says, teasing. "Okay, I'll be ready in an hour."

"I'll text 'em, pornstar."

* * *

The barista won't stop staring at Clarke.

It's getting kind of weird, but he's actually kind of cute. Freckles and dark skin and wavy hair, oof. He reminds her of her ex, in a way, which is probably not a good way to think about someone you think is attractive.

She's in line, having been the poor unfortunate soul to wait while the other three find a table and set up their laptops. She's usually the one who has to do this due to her better memory - she knows by now that Raven wants a latte, Miller wants an Americano, and Monty wants the most sugary drink on the menu with the silly name that she blushes every time she orders. 

When it's her turn, she gives him the polite smile that she gives all strangers and reads the name tag -  _Bellamy._ It's a little bit of a weird name, but, hey, she's a girl with the name  _Clarke._ She's been there. "Alright," she says, "I have to order for all my friends, so bear with me." She gives an awkward laugh.

His smile seems a little forced, as if he's uncomfortable, but given the fact that he keeps looking at her lips? He might think she's as cute as she thinks he is. 

She orders the drinks, and oh God, when she has to order Monty's  _Sugar Daddy,_ she can feel herself get awkward. She's always hated it a little when restaurants have embarrassing names. 

"What's your name, pri- please?"

"Clarke," she says. "With an e at the end."

"Clarke," is the barista's answer, as if he's fascinated. "A pretty name for a pretty girl. Four drinks coming right up."

 

**from: raven**

he's flirting with you, girl!!! get those digits!!!

 

Clarke's not entirely sure where Raven is, so she scowls into her phone instead. Of course, Raven's creeping on her. She'd expect no different.

 

**to: raven**

I'm not so sure? When he looked at me, he kind of looked like he swallowed a bee

Maybe I'm that ugly

**from: raven**

shut up. you're so cute, he doesn't know what to do with himself

 

When she gets the drinks, the first thing that she notices is that hers has writing scribbled all over it. She doesn't want to be weird and read it right in front of him, so she pretends not to notice, smiles, says thank you, and hurries over towards her friends.

Raven sees the writing first, and makes grabby hands for it. She reads it and  _howls,_ before passing the drink back to Clarke so that she can grab her own.

Monty reads it over his shoulder, but frowns. "I don't get it," he says.

_princess, you're even prettier in person. text me sometime. XXX-XXX-XXXX - augustus._

"Oh, dear," Clarke says.

* * *

 

 

"I'm not going to text him! What if he tells everyone I do shows?" Clarke says, frustrated. She's trying to get ready for bed, but Raven won't stop nagging her about the hot barista. Even though she hadn't known specifically that  _augustus_ was a viewer, she must have put two and two together almost instantly. Raven's pretty smart that way.

"Then you get more publicity," Raven says. "You make a hell of a lot more dough, and you have no more debt. The end."

"That's not how it works," Clarke whines, turning her back on Raven so that she can change into pajamas. She immediately regrets this when she hears the  _ping_ that means that her phone has sent a message. "Raven," she cries. "Raven,  _seriously?_ "

"I even gave him a contact name," Raven says, handing Clarke her phone back. Looking awfully smug, Raven excuses herself to go to bed.

 

 **to:** **cute barista who also watches my porn**

hey, it's clarke! you know, it's actually really surprising that you're as hot as you are. i was half expecting all the people who watch to be old white married men.

 

God  _dammit,_ Raven.

The response comes almost instantly.

 

**from: cute barista who also watched my porn**

Well, I guess I forgot to tell you about my seven kids, then. ;)

 

Oh, he's  _funny._ Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Clarke does herself a favor and changes the contact name to  _bellamy,_ just in case someone ever gets a hold of her phone who isn't Raven.

 

**to: bellamy**

Oh, how will I ever cope?

**from: bellamy**

By getting to know how awesome I am, surely.

I promise I will not bring any of my seven kids. They will stay home with my nonexistent wife who is troubled about my affairs

**to: bellamy**

As long as you're not creepy.

* * *

He's not creepy. He's actually quite a gentleman, which is almost not what she'd been expecting at all.

They go to Applebee's the week after, which might just be the least romantic place of all time, but it's within their budget. He tells her about his little sister who he'd practically raised, about how he's been working two jobs since he was too young to be working them, about how he's been taking college classes online since they tend to be cheaper. He seems hardworking.

She almost feels uncomfortable telling him her story, since it's so much different and more privileged than his is. She tells him, quite bluntly, about how she had everything she wanted growing up, about how she was a spoiled brat. 

"My mom," she explains, "is a doctor, and ... she'd always had this, uh, hope, that I would follow in her footsteps. I did a few internships here and there and I was good at it, really, but ... I don't know. I hated it. I was good at it, but ... watching people be sick and dying like that takes a courage that I don't think I have. Maybe I could have, but, I don't know. The only way she'd help me financially is if I went down that road, and I couldn't."

(Watching Wells, her best friend, die in the hospital, slowly and painfully, took the will to study medicine out of her.)

"What are you studying now?" Bellamy asks.

"Art Studio," she replies, taking a sip of her lemonade. "What about you?"

"Art Studio's a lot different than medicine," he says with a smile. He doesn't seem to be judging her, if anything, he looks pleased. "I'm a double major. Greek and History."

" _Woah,"_ Clarke says. "Damn, you're impressive."

"I could say the same about you," Bellamy says. "I'm not sure how you balance it all. Classes, work,  _and_ a social life? Jeez, I gave up on that last one a long time ago."

She likes that he refers to her shows as work. She likes that he's respectful. If she didn't know any better, it would be impossible to tell that he's spent many weekends watching her get off. There's a reason that Raven's the only other person who knows, but Bellamy seems to be an exception.

"You're flattering me," she says. "Hey, want to split the chocolate cake?"

After dinner, he walks her to her apartment, and he looks like he's about to kiss her. She wants that, oh, she wants that, but first, she blurts out what's been on her mind all night.

"I really want this - you, and me - to not just be a one night thing," she says.

He brightens up at that. "Me neither. I'll text you, and we can make plans for next weekend?"

"Yes, definitely, yes," she says, repeating her words out of nerves. "But, just? Don't expect me to, uh, get another line of work, I guess? Because that's how I'm paying for college, and other jobs don't really pay as well, uh, oh God, not that I'm bashing your job-"

"Clarke," he says, amused, "I get it."

"Oh! Oh, okay, well, that's good."

"Can I kiss you?"

Clarke's so awkward and embarrassed that instead of answering and messing up her words, she reaches up to kiss him. He tastes like the chocolate that they split along with some of the lemonade that he snuck from her, and it doesn't really go together but at the same time it does. He's a good kisser, too, and he knows when to stop it so that they don't end up making out while Raven is probably creepily staring at them from inside.

"Wow," she says, because she's a  _dork._

"Wow," Bellamy agrees. "Have a good night, princess."

Raven is being creepy in the kitchen when Clarke gets in. "How'd I know," she says, rolling her eyes and going for some tea. It's a little bit of a routine - tea helps her sleep.

"You babbled all over him," Raven says, cackling like a supervillain. "Let me guess, you were all 'just because I do porn doesn't mean I'm a slut,' right?"

"Don't use that word," Clarke says. "And, well, kind of. I told him that even if he and I become a  _thing_ I'm not going to quit my job."

"Oh, well, obviously," Raven says. "I've seen your paycheck. Boys aren't worth drowning in debt. 'Cause, honestly, if you keep that up until you have a well-paying job, you're gonna be  _fine._ "

"I'm hella fine," Clarke says.

* * *

 

The first time they have sex is after their fourth date. His roommate - Murphy, Bellamy says - is spending the night at his girlfriend's, like usual, so he invites Clarke to his apartment so that he can bake for her.

He bakes her cookies, and her only contribution is making all of the chocolate chips into a smiley face design. He complains that it will make the cookies have a uneven chocolate chip ratio, and he sounds so serious while saying it that she snorts and kisses him to shut him up.

"Those smell so good," Clarke says, with her legs resting on Bellamy's lap as they watch  _Daredevil._ It had taken her barely any time at all to become comfortable around him, and now she's in her pajamas treating him as a place to rest her feet. Relationships are weird that way - some of her exes took months for her to be this comfortable around.

"They're better than sex," Bellamy brags, mainly teasing. "I am, in fact, the best cook you'll ever meet."

"Better than  _sex_?" Clarke responds. "You must not be having very good sex."

"Want to remedy that?"

Clarke feels herself getting wet at the thought of where this night might lead, and not very sneakily, she crosses her legs. He looks at her, amused, but waiting for her to initiate it. "Cookies first," Clarke says. "Because if they burn, I will  _die._ "

"Oh, dear," Bellamy says, and places a hand right above her knee. It's hot and heavy and  _God,_ Clarke already wants to take it back, but she's nothing if not stubborn so she stays quiet.

Last week, they'd both had a long conversation about sex. They talked about how it was better without condoms, how Clarke was on the pill, and that if Clarke was going _anywhere_ near his dick, he'd need to get tested. Sex isn't just a hobby for Clarke, it's a career. She gets tested much more frequently than the average person, not because she's all that sexually active but because, well, when your income revolves around you putting things in your pussy on camera, you like to make sure that you're clean. He'd shown her the papers yesterday.

Waiting for the oven to beep is the most torturous four minutes of Clarke's life, especially because it's hard to focus on Matt Murdock when Bellamy's hand keeps moving, up a little but nowhere near where Clarke wants it. She's tempted to move his hand herself, but  _no,_ _dammit, Clarke, have some self control._

When it beeps, Clarke moves her legs so that Bellamy can get the tray out of the oven. "Don't fall asleep," he warns her. 

"No promises," she says, even though she's wide awake. She can sleep after she gets cookies and sex. In that order.

It takes less than thirty seconds for her to get bored, so she pauses Netflix and follows Bellamy into the kitchen. He's poking a cookie with a fork, spearing right through the middle of her smiley face.

"How dare you," she accuses. "I made that smiley face with  _love,_ and you  _kill him._ "

"I had to make sure they were done!" Bellamy protests. "They're good, they're done. You just gotta wait for a minute for them to cool down."

Clarke throws her self-control plan out the window and steps closer to him, pressing a kiss to his lips as she lets one of her hands travel down his stomach and slip into the waistband of his sweatpants. It's an awkward angle, and her shoulder sure doesn't appreciate it, but that can wait. She strokes him through his boxers and he lets out a soundless groan into the kiss. Her other hand takes his and she guides him to her chest, letting him feel that she's not wearing a bra right now.

"Clarke," he mumbles, "Clarke, you're gonna be the death of me."

"What a good way to go," she says, and removes her hand. She sucks on her fingers instead of washing them, (hopefully he washes his damn underwear) and reaches for a cookie. He stares at her, as if questioning if she's even real, before taking the two halves of the one he split and popping one in his mouth.

The gooey chocolate melts both in her mouth and on her fingers, and she eats it embarrassingly quickly. The part of her mind that says "portion control! portion control!" is drowned out by how  _good_ they are, so she goes for another one.

"I told you," Bellamy says, pleased, "better than sex."

"You just haven't had sex with me," Clarke says, covering her mouth as she's speaking with her mouth full. She knows that she's probably the farthest from sexy that there is right now, hair down, in her pajamas, speaking with her mouth full of cookie and with chocolate on her fingers. Even so, he's looking at her as if she's ethereal.

"You have chocolate on your cheek," he says. "How did you even  _get_ it that far away from your mouth, what the hell, Clarke," and he kisses it off of her. It's all it takes for her to think that cookie time is over, so she takes his hand and tugs it.

"Where's your bedroom?" she asks.

He doesn't need to be told twice, so he leads her away from the kitchen and into one of the doors down a hallway. His room is pretty clean, but she realizes that that might just be because he doesn't have enough stuff to be messy with.  _Someday,_ she thinks, because she's a dreamer,  _I'll be a famous artist and I'll buy him all the stuff he wants._

"Lie down," he says, voice strained and gruff and  _hot,_ so she does. She sits and leans back so that her head hits the pillows, and she's comfy as she watches him settle himself over her.

"Want me to treat you like a princess, babe?" he says. "Want me to give you the attention you deserve?"

"Yes," she says. "Yes, Bell, please."

He props her legs up so that her feet are flat on the bed and her knees are in the air, and reaches for her pajamas. "I like these," he says, as if he's not currently undressing her. "They look comfortable."

"They are," Clarke says, lifting her feet so that he can pull them off, along with her underwear.

He bundles up her panties with her pajamas and tosses them gently on the floor, probably knowing that if they stayed on the bed that they'd just get in the way. " _God,_ Clarke," he says. "I've been thinking about your pretty pussy forever. Can't believe it's for me, now."

"For you," she repeats, breathless. She's anticipating what's about to come too much to give a proper response. "Please,  _touch me._ "

"Take your shirt off," he says, and reaches to do the same to himself. She scrambles to do so, not usually one to take orders in bed but this is so hot, so  _electrifying,_ somehow. She wants to touch herself, but she's getting the impression that he wants her to do as she's told, so she does.

"So good for me," he says. "You're such a good girl, huh? You like that? You like when I tell you what I want?" It's dirty talk, but there's another layer underneath it - if she says no, he'll stop.

"Yes," she answers. "Yes."

"Good," Bellamy says, and leans down to leave her a kiss on her lips. She leans into it but he's already moved on to her neck, then her collarbone, then to suck on a nipple. Whenever she touches her own breasts, there's usually not a reaction, but when someone else does it it's  _everything._

"Bell," she gasps. "Bellamy, I swear, if you give me a hickey-"

"Sorry, princess," he whispers, moving down to kiss below her chest, her heart-shaped scar, to somewhere so close to where she wants him to be. 

He places his fingers on her lips and spreads them open. "So wet for me," he says. "So good." Before she can even think of an answer to that, he's burying her head between her thighs. He licks around for a bit before sucking on her clit, and  _oh,_ she's whimpering.

Clarke's not even sure what's coming out of her mouth at this point, but since she doesn't have to be fake-moaning, for the camera everything is  _real,_ and this is so much better than any show. She doesn't have to go fast and hard to get herself to come for tips, and instead, Bellamy's taking things slow. He's sucking her clit as if he could spend his whole life doing it.

She feels an orgasm building, and she tugs on his hair a little to warn him. "Bellamy, I'm gonna, I'm gonna..."

He keeps going, keeps sucking on her, and she comes with a sharp intake of breath, hips instinctively raising so that she can get more pressure. He doesn't push her back down, he just takes it - takes all of it, lets her use him until she's slumped down back on the bed, breathless. He slows down before stopping completely, raising his head to show her how completely wet his face is. "You've given me a lot of orgasms," he says, smiling, "it's about time we start getting even."

He pulls down his own pants and his boxers shortly after, flinging them carelessly onto the floor somewhere near Clarke's own clothes. He's bigger than she would have expected, thicker and longer, and the thought riles Clarke up. He'll probably stretch her better than any of her toys, he'll fill her up.

"You wanna return the favor, princess?" he asks. "You wanna work that pretty mouth before I fuck you?"

"Yes," she says, and scoots into a sitting position. He kneels so that his dick is right in front of her, and she gets to work, one hand massaging his balls and the other flat against his stomach for support. She licks at the head a few times, licks stripes alongside his shaft, eyes looking at him the whole time. 

"That's it, that's good, baby," he says. "You look so hot like this, lips on me. Go a little faster - yeah, that's it. Some other time, when I'm not so desperate to be inside you, I'll fuck your mouth, huh? You like the sound of that?"

She moans around his cock, because yes, she wants that, and she's already dripping wet again, even though she'd just come a few moments ago. She keeps sucking eagerly, loving the little groans that slip out between him telling her how good she's doing.

He grabs a hold of her hair and pulls her back. When she lifts away from his cock, a line of spit follows her red lips, and there's something about it that's  _filthy_ and-

"Bellamy," she says. "Bellamy, I want you to fuck me.  _Please._ "

"Say it again," he says.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," she says. "Please, please, make me yours."

That's all it takes. He lays her down onto her back and kneels between her legs. "Lift your legs, princess," he says, and Clarke does, lifting her legs so that her calves rest on his shoulders. He bends forward and sucks on his fingers before putting them inside her. He skips just one finger and goes straight to two, which takes just a little time to adjust before he adds a third. He goes gently, at first, and Clarke appreciates it. The tips of his fingers hit that same place that made her squirt, but it's not enough with just his fingers.

She rocks back into him, whining at how it's  _not enough._ She wants him to be inside of her, wants him to fill her up.

"You're so needy for me, Clarke," he says. "You want me so bad, huh?" He punctuates this with a gentle slap to her clit with the hand that's not inside her and she moans.

"Please," she whines. "Please, I can take it, please, please."

When he first enters her, it's torturously slow. She tries to fuck back into him to make it faster, but he seems intent on taking his time, on teasing her. The position that they're in makes him keep brushing against her g-spot, and she wonders if he did that on purpose.

"That feel good, princess?" he asks. "You like being fucked by my cock?"

She tries to answer, but he picks that time to pick up the speed so all that leaves her lips is a breathy moan. "Yes, B-Bellamy, c'mon, please," she's not entirely sure what she's begging for, but he must know, since he brings a hand down to rub her clit. She's so wet that the sound of him fucking into her is downright obscene, but so good,  _oh,_ so good.

She feels him hit her g-spot again, and again, and this time she realizes what's happening. "Bellamy," she says.

"What, princess? You wanna come?"

Clarke shakes her head a little, making Bellamy slow down. "I think I'm gonna - gonna  _squirt_ again."

He's thrusting into her like it's all he knows how to do, loudly and quickly. "Don't hold back," he says, fiercely stroking her clit now. "Want you to come all over me, baby, that's right." He's hitting her g-spot every time now, and she doesn't even realize that she's shouting. God, she's a screamer, and she hopes that Bellamy's neighbors aren't home.

She sees him get sprayed before she feels it come out of her, but then it's all that she can feel. Everything is so  _much_ and so good, and she's chanting something that might not even be comprehensible. He's still rubbing her clit for all it's worth and she comes from that, too, feeling her muscles tense around his cock. It takes a few moments before she comes back to where she is, where she's able to think clearly again. She regains sense right when he spills inside of her, fills her with his cum. Once it gets to be too much she gently pushes him away, and he falls out of her, cum following him.

For a while, neither of them says anything, just breathes. Then he says, "holy shit."

Clarke laughs, tired, and he slumps down next to her, pressing a hand against her chest so that he can feel her heartbeat. She's not entirely sure why, but the sensation is nice, so she lets it happen.

After a while, he gets up. "You made quite the mess, princess."

Maybe she could be embarrassed about it if he hadn't just been begging her to squirt on him. "Let me help you clean up," she says, but he gently pushes her back down.

"That's, what, the second time you've done that?" he asks, and she nods. "You're probably tired, sunshine, let me clean up everything. You treated me so well, did everything I said. Let me do this for you."

Before he can leave, she asks, "hey, Bellamy?"

"Yeah, Clarke?"

"You think the cookies are still warm?"

**Author's Note:**

> does it show that i've never written smut before, lol


End file.
